


Seven Minutes in Heaven

by Syaunei



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Trapped In A Closet, tropes are fun, when I say sexual tension I mean it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26285689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syaunei/pseuds/Syaunei
Summary: During one of Jadzia's wild parties, Julian gets paired with another man for a game of "Seven Minutes in Heaven".He isn't terribly thrilled about it, but he holds out hope that he and Garak can work something out.After all, they are good friends.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 70
Kudos: 235





	Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This evil plot bunny besieged me in the middle of my other fic, "All Is Fair in Love and War", and I caved in to my muse's demands.
> 
> Whipped into shape by the lovely almaasi.

Julian wonders how things could have gotten so out of hand as he stares at the man he will be trapped with for the next 7 minutes.

Seven full minutes of expectations he doesn’t know how to even begin to fulfill. 

Why couldn’t it have been a pretty girl he got stuck with? Like one of those fresh Ensigns that arrived a month ago? That was the only reason why he’d agreed when Jadzia bombastically announced that they would be playing. She entered all their names into a padd and had an algorithm randomly assign pairs. If he’d known there was a chance to get paired with another man, he would have politely declined to participate. 

Damned Jadzia and her outrageous parties! 

At least it wasn’t Morn. 

Or Captain Boday.

“I must admit I am rather hazy on the rules of this game, Doctor. What is it that we are expected to do in this closet for the next, what, seven minutes?”

Despite himself, Julian snickers. At least Garak can be counted upon to infuse some pragmatism into this disastrous situation.

“We’re expected to make out.” Julian shrugs. “That’s what people usually do.”

“I’m afraid I am not familiar with that expression.” 

With a groan, Julian slumps against the wall. 

“It means… Kissing, some touching… It depends on the mood and the affinity of the people involved. Not everyone goes very far with it.”

Julian can still hear the echoing merriment, whistles and cheering they were escorted with when the doors shut on them.

“I gather you played this game before, Doctor?”

Embarrassed, Julian replies, “Yes, at the Academy.”

“And how did you spend your time while trapped with these... individuals?”

“Uhm, usually? If I got paired with a girl, we would kiss. The one time I got paired with another man, I…”

The one time he got paired with another man, well… Julian preferred not to think about it.

“You what, Doctor?”

“We didn't want to kiss, but we knew if we stepped out having done nothing, we would be publicly ridiculed for our lack of sportsmanship, so... we had to do  _ something.  _ We agreed to wait until the seven minutes were almost up and then we, uh... did a spot of necking.”

“Necking?”

Julian feels supremely embarrassed. Why is he the one that has to explain these silly teenage games to Garak? He hadn’t played this game in years!

“Come now, Doctor. I am sure you've had to explain far more gruesome things during your medical career.”

Garak is right. It seems so silly when put so bluntly.

Julian supposes there is no way out other than to just say it.

“Necking is what teenagers usually do when they first start experimenting sexually. They place their mouth on their partner's neck and suck on the skin, often producing bruises that get referred to as  _ love bites _ .”

“Do they? How interesting... And am I to assume that this is the course of action you would prefer to take?”

He should be mortified but instead Julian feels relieved. He's not sure why he's so uncomfortable with men in romantic situations, but that one experience, while not completely nightmare-inducing, was neither especially stimulating nor comfortable.

“That would be great. Thank you, Garak.”

“I am at your service, as ever. Though I fail to understand which part of this forced intimacy is supposed to be amusing to either the audience or the participants.”

Julian grins. There are times when cultural differences definitely come in handy. Having to explain human customs to an alien makes Julian re-evaluate them, see them in a new light. 

“Honestly, I think it’s just an excuse for horny teenagers to experiment in a relatively safe and guilt-free way. Some even pretend to have gone further than just kissing as a joke.”

“And how does one pretend, Doctor?” Garak asks guilelessly, which makes Julian roll his eyes. Garak’s interest in things is never completely innocent.

“Oh, you know…” Julian trails off, “disheveled hair, slightly undone clothing, that sort of thing... I really should pay Jadzia back for this.”

True, she couldn’t have known that he had previous bad experiences with the game. At least, he was trapped with a good friend. That was his silver lining and he was sticking to it. He was sure they could find  _ some _ way of mitigating this disaster.

“If you wish to pay your Trill friend back for setting you up like this, I wouldn't mind engaging in subterfuge for that cause. If you would have me as your partner in crime, that is.”

Julian eyes Garak carefully and concludes that it’s a sincere offer. At least as sincere as it can be, coming from a former spy.

“You wouldn't mind?”

Garak waves his hand dismissively and Julian is glad his augmented vision allows him to see fairly well in the relative darkness of Jadzia's closet. Not being able to see what is going on would have only ratcheted his anxiety up another notch.

“Not in the least. I may not look it, but I used to like to engage in occasional harmless mischief when I was much younger.”

Garak, a prankster? Julian couldn’t help but smile at the image.

If anyone deserved to be pranked, it was Jadzia. She dispensed practical jokes as easily as she dispensed her infectious laughter. It was high time someone paid her back - with interest.

“All right.” Julian concedes, the prospect of pulling a fast one over Jadzia shining like a beacon at the end of a long dark tunnel.

“Would you mind showing me how one should go about looking properly disheveled?”

Well, that’s easy at least. Knowing that his Cardassian friend isn’t having any difficulties seeing in this lighting, Julian ruffles his own hair vigorously, hoping it looks properly messy. Garak keeps looking him straight in the eye and mimics the action by slowly running his fingers through the tips of his slicked-back hair. The end result isn’t  _ especially _ messy, but Julian supposes it does stand out, considering how immaculately Garak usually keeps it. Then again, they might as well go a bit overboard for the effect.

“Is that enough?” Garak inquires.

“No... It should be more like... May I?” Julian asks, even as his hand is already half-way across the small space.

“Be my guest.” Garak says graciously and Julian is grateful that his potential faux pas is being dismissed. His fingers come in contact with black tresses and he notes how coarse and thick the hairs are, or at least, how they would be if they weren’t slicked back. Carefully, Julian fluffs up Garak's hair and catches himself staring at the unusual image. He imagines that this might be what Garak looks like when he wakes in the morning, with a moderate case of bed-head. 

“There, that’s perfect,” Julian concludes, happy with his handiwork. 

Garak makes a non-committal noise before asking: “You mentioned undone clothing?”

“Yes!” Julian exclaims, feeling an edge of excitement as their prank slowly takes shape. He unbuttons the first button of his dark purple shirt and notices that Garak is looking at him with a critical eye. 

“That would not convince me... May I, Doctor? I do have an eye for these things, after all.”

Julian huffs but concedes the point. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”

Garak steps into his personal space and reaches for his shirt. Julian observes him undo one more button and look at it with dissatisfaction. Julian is wondering what’s wrong when Garak runs his fingertips gently over Julian's bared throat and makes a ponderous noise. 

“Another one would look better…” 

Julian realizes he's forgotten how to breathe as Garak undoes another button.

“There. Much more convincing.” 

With his throat bared and clavicles exposed, Julian is beginning to feel slightly underdressed. Especially next to a Cardassian buttoned up to the gills.

“What about you?”

Garak's eyes glint mischievously in the gloom.

“What’s the matter, Doctor? Is this turning into _I'll show you mine if you show_ _me_ _yours_?”

“No!” Julian stammers but Garak merely laughs.

“You wouldn't want me to be cold, would you, Doctor? The temperature on the station is quite inhospitable to my kind.” 

Being reminded of his thoughtlessness always stings. 

“Right. I'm sorry, Garak, it didn't even occur to me…”

“No matter. I suppose we will have to compensate in another area. Would you like to spend the remaining time talking about something and wait to be caught like you did at the Academy, or would you prefer we produce some more evidence for your friends?”

“Evidence?”

“Yes, Doctor. One of those love bites you mentioned, perhaps? Would that suffice to spare you the public humiliation of not putting the proper effort into this little... ritual?”

Julian pondered for a while. That  _ would  _ give their time here an air of legitimate... intimacy. And Jadzia thought she was being very funny. Well, bully for her, as it will all be a ruse! The more he thought of Jadzia's fooled face, the more the idea held appeal. Still... was he really all right with the prospect of letting Garak do this?

“We could always submit to your friends' ridicule,” Garak offers, but Julian shakes his head. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“No, I want our prank to be convincing.”

“Are you certain, Doctor?”

Julian takes a deep breath and nods.

“Yes, I'm sure.”

Garak approaches, slowly, carefully, as if he doesn’t want to scare away some skittish prey. Julian plasters himself against the wall, bracing for the ensuing unpleasantness.

_ Think of England. _

As Garak tilts Julian's head to the left and sweeps the collar of his shirt out of the way, Julian shivers. 

This was just a joke, right? 

He would enjoy finally pulling one over Jadzia.

Garak's breath is hot and moist against his skin. At the first rasp of tongue, Julian makes an odd, strangled mewling noise of surprise. Why would Garak lick him? That makes no sense, you are supposed to-

“Ah-” the sound escapes his throat unwittingly as Garak's lips descend on his neck, planting an open-mouth kiss.

That wasn't how it felt when he was last stuck in the closet with the guy from the Academy. The other cadet had been brusque, very down to business, very impersonal. Julian remembered just trying to get it over with. Once the door had opened, his embarrassment had been very real, and he'd let everyone else have a good chuckle at his expense, but he never forgot how deeply uncomfortable that event made him. 

There hadn't been a single thing that felt good, except being released from the game and beating a hasty retreat by claiming he had an exam to cram for. 

He is jarred back into the present when Garak gently cradles his face with one hand and suckles on his neck. Julian can feel the flare of his nerve-endings all the way down to his toes.

He'd hated it so much at the Academy that he'd been deeply uncomfortable around men for a while. It was stupid and irrational, he kept telling himself. After all, it had been his idea to play along, but the feeling of wrongness never fully went away. 

So, why was Garak different? What made his touch less repulsive? Was it because (against his better judgment) Julian trusted him?

They  _ were _ friends. 

That should make all the difference.

Julian liked the action very much when his girlfriends did it, but he'd managed to convince himself that no men could make it enjoyable.

Perhaps that opinion should be amended.

A hint of teeth, a gentle bite – followed by insistent lips and swipes of a dextrous tongue. 

This wasn't how it usually felt.

He doesn't know what Garak is doing or how he is doing it, but Julian can feel his legs turning into jelly. A whiffled moan breaks the silence and Julian feels mortified for being unable to contain his pleasure. Guilt washes over him. 

It is wrong to enjoy this, as it isn't  _ really  _ an intimate act – they are both just pretending. 

But if they are both pretending, why does this feel nothing like the incident in his Academy days?

“Unh-” Julian bites his lip as Garak leaves one spot behind to trail excruciatingly slowly up his neck, leaving what was sure to be a string of love bites behind. His hands grasp onto Garak's tunic as a stab of pain pierces his haze.

“Ow, that hurts!”

The lips withdraw and warm breath gusts over his worried flesh.

“I'm sorry, dear…” Garak murmurs and licks a gentle stripe up the column of his neck. “Is this better?”

Julian wants to be quiet, really, he does. At the Academy, people would have been listening at the door and trying not to snicker. But Jadzia doesn't keep her quarters quiet and he can hear music from outside, voices, laughter... If he keeps mostly quiet, nobody should be able to hear a thing, not through all the din outside. 

And as Garak renews his ministrations more gently, Julian finds himself unable to suppress a moan. 

“That is  _ very _ convincing, my dear. Do you think you could replicate that when they open the door?”

“Mhm- ahh, yes... I think so?” Julian manages before dissolving into another moan. 

Garak is so good at this. It is honestly hard to think. How much time do they have until the door is opened? A minute? Maybe two? He's lost count.

And when Garak tilts his head gently the other way and starts kissing the right side of his neck, Julian's back arches off the wall, bringing his torso up against Garak's. 

Can one go insane from kisses? Julian doesn't know. 

What he  _ does  _ know, is that if this goes on much further, a certain part of his anatomy will take notice and make an unwanted appearance. 

This was a ruse, a ploy, a joke. He couldn't allow himself to cross the line, no matter how good Garak was making him feel. 

A thigh insinuates itself between his legs and he feels a gentle nibble on his ear, followed by the softest brush of something that is gone so fast he cannot be sure whether it was lips or-

“Garak…”

Since when was his voice such a pleading, needy wreck?

“Garak, please... stop…”

The moment he says it, Garak obeys, moving away enough to look him in the eye, clearly watching for any signs of distress.

“Are you all right?” Garak asks and it sounds so earnest that Julian gets the urge to reassure him. 

“I'm... I'm fine.”

“You're shivering, Julian,” Garak observes and Julian gapes.

“You've never used my name before…”

Garak shrugs. “The situation never warranted it.”

Julian tries really hard to decipher Garak's meaning, but aside from the obvious, comes up short. Perhaps it was stupid to be curious in this situation, but he couldn't help it.

“And what about this situation warrants it?”

Garak looks at him, smiles and whispers: “Indulge me for a moment, Julian.”

Julian nods in assent and watches Garak leaning in. His heart is beating so fast it feels like it is buzzing in his chest.

He knows what Garak is about to do and he has time to move away, to push him off, to tell him – no. But somehow, he does none of those things. As the meagre space between them disappears, he finds a pair of warm lips pressing against his, in a fit that could only be described as divine. 

This was going beyond a ruse, wasn't it? It would be extremely convincing.

Yet even the thought of Jadzia fades away as their kiss grows more heated. Julian's palms slip upwards and clutch at Garak's ridges blindly, left hand settling on Garak's neck, and the right cupping the ear ridges, thumb brushing absentmindedly along the Cardassian's jaw. 

Julian had never felt more than a passing curiosity for his own gender; certainly nothing that would make him want to be this intimate with a man, but Garak... he had the habit of making all his notions seem utterly ridiculous.

What did it matter? Cardassian, Human, Bajoran; male, female, neither or in-between?

Nothing mattered when a person could make you feel like you were burning from the inside-out, fizzing like a sparkler.

Every touch is like a tongue of flame, flickering across his skin. 

He forgets that they are pretending and for but a moment, Julian loses himself in the sensations. Garak’s mouth is hot, his hands are cool, and the thigh between his legs is rubbing against Julian most inconveniently.

When they break for air, Julian’s head swims. 

“How much time do we have?” he manages to pant out as he glances towards the closed door.

“Less than a minute, I believe.” Garak states and Julian believes him. After all, he has no reason to lie. “Are you satisfied?” 

The question throws Julian for a loop.

“I beg your pardon?”

“With our fabricated evidence, Doctor.” Garak reminds him, “Do you think it will pass muster?”

It should. Julian knows if anyone sees him now, he probably looks convincingly debauched. 

He  _ feels _ slightly debauched, if he’s honest with himself. 

Garak has managed to make an unpleasant memory so distant and insignificant that Julian is genuinely awed. Perhaps he should feel happy with this and just laugh in Jadzia’s face when the door opens. 

“Or…” Garak speaks and his voice is honeyed and persuasive, “We could give them something to  _ really _ talk about.”

Julian gulps, knowing he's in trouble. Those burning blue eyes shouldn’t be so full of promise. 

A genuinely surprised Jadzia  _ would  _ be something, wouldn’t she?

“What did you have in mind?” he catches himself saying.

It sounds too breathless.

Too eager.

Garak grins.

“The time is almost up and we need to present an image that offers no doubt.”

Julian wanted to ask what Garak was planning to do, but his mouth operated faster than his brain.

“What should I do?”

“You need only lean back and relax, my dear.”

The ambiguity would normally infuriate him, but this time he feels only the inescapable, thrilling pull of anticipation. Garak had managed to do the impossible, to turn this unpleasant prospect back into a game that he could actually enjoy.

And Julian  _ is _ enjoying it. 

Perhaps a bit too much.

It takes him a moment to figure out what Garak is planning as he approaches once more, burying his ridged nose into Julian’s neck, breathing him in. Julian really shouldn't feel savored, but he does. He guesses it makes sense, spies are good actors - James Bond certainly was. Once, long ago, he’d wondered whether Garak was skilled at seduction as well. 

Julian finds himself completely swept up in Garak’s performance - the kisses are drawn out and passionate, the hands pulling his shirt from his trousers insistent and he finds himself utterly incapable of protesting.

And why would he? 

It is both thrilling and fun. 

Garak is nipping at his lips and caressing his chest in between unfastening buttons. As his shirt finally falls open completely, the rush of cold air makes him gasp.

The alluring whisper in his ear forces him to bite his lip. “Would it be too provocative for them to find me on my knees, Julian?”

The question has Julian blurting out an inarticulate sound, half-way between surprise and arousal.

“You’re so devious, Garak…” Julian utters, chastising himself for sounding so affected.

Another gentle bite to his ear has him shuddering. 

How can Garak be so good at this?  _ How?? _

Julian has a feeling that Garak on his knees before him… Forget about the other partygoers, it would  _ end _ him. His battle with arousal is thoroughly forfeit and he’s seriously considering begging Garak to…

Julian isn’t sure whether he wants Garak to stop or to keep going. He’s trying to remember what it was they were trying to achieve.

Pranking Jadzia, yes. That’s what they agreed to.

Julian steels his resolve and murmurs his acceptance.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” 

Julian wants to burst out of his skin. 

“Do it, Garak,” he instructs with the assuredness he doesn’t feel and allows himself to be tortured with coarse palms, now heated - sliding down his chest and abdomen, only to be followed by agonizingly warm kisses. He dares not watch Garak doing these things to him, for fear of… Well. The obvious.

He should feel utterly mortified by the fact that Garak will, in a second, see his arousal. At least he is still fully clothed (and will remain so!). That doesn’t make it better but for some reason, he has a feeling Garak wouldn't judge him for it. Not too harshly, at least.

It’s a battle against his own body at this point - his excruciatingly responsive and traitorous body. 

Julian mutters an expletive and bangs his head against the wall. The dull pain doesn’t help - his system is flooded with adrenaline, so he can barely feel it. It would probably take a serious wound to even register through the haze of lust.

_ It’s just a game _ , he reminds himself.

_ Garak is pretending. _

I _ am pretending. _

Yet somehow, there’s no comfortable distinction. It may all be just a game, but the physical responses are very real. Garak’s lips against his stomach are real.

The fingers unbuttoning his trousers are real.

“Oh God-” Julian whines as Garak trails a finger down his front.

What is happening on the outside? Surely they’ve surpassed the time limit by now? Jadzia should be bursting in any second.

But more importantly, what is happening here? Garak surely wasn’t going to… There’s no way Garak would actually-

Not for a game, surely?

Surely not.

The thought was ridiculous. Garak was simply putting on a great show. Any moment now, the doors would open and this charade would be over. Julian should be helping Garak’s efforts, not hindering them.

With that thought in mind, the moan that leaves his mouth is dissolute and pleading. 

He just wants this to be over, but not like before. Not like it was at the Academy.

Julian wishes the seven minutes could last longer. He wishes they weren’t trapped in Jadzia’s closet. He wishes they weren’t being timed and watched. 

But most of all, he wishes Garak wouldn’t stop, not even if the doors do open.

He wonders briefly what that says about him when every last coherent thought abandons him as Garak pulls at the elastic band of his underwear. Not enough to divest him, not even close, yet enough to tease the prospect. 

Enough to flood his mind with deliciously forbidden possibilities.

Julian wants to weep with frustration. Where  _ is  _ Jadzia? Unless she bursts in, and soon, Julian is sure he will expire on the spot. He’s beginning to sweat, and his breath is coming out in pained little bursts. Garak’s hands on his thighs are pure torture and he has half a mind to ask to be divested but bites his tongue. That would be terrible. Then Garak would know just how far gone he is, and Julian preferred to leave this closet with at least  _ some _ of his dignity intact. 

Said dignity is currently flying out the window as he feels himself pulsing. Julian’s tongue may be under his control, but the rest of him, not so much. He bites his lower lip to stifle the worst of it, but he cannot contain the rest of his reactions - the ragged breathing, the way his back arches, the way his hips twitch.

And when he chances a look downwards, he regrets it instantly, for Garak is looking at his uncomfortably tight pants with something which could be likened to hunger or at the very least, unabashed interest. 

It’s too much.

It’s too convincing. 

With a frustrated groan, Julian smacks his head against the wall. He concludes that he’s terrible at games such as these, because Garak hasn’t broken character  _ once _ , and here he is, having second thoughts.

Would he really be ok with getting caught like this? On full display? 

His modesty is not something Julian concerns himself with greatly, but he doesn’t want Garak to be included in the mockery. Garak deserves better than to serve as some kind of punchline. And while Julian wants very much to get back at Jadzia, Garak’s dignity is not the price he is willing to pay for it.

Just as he was about to voice his concerns, he feels Garak mouthing his erection through the thin fabric and actually whimpers. His hands unclench and fly forward.

As Julian’s fingers burrow into Garak’s hair, he realizes his reaction is ridiculously easy to misinterpret as encouragement.

Oh God, Garak really didn’t need more encouragement. 

“Please,” Julian whines. “For God’s sake, stop.”

He feels Garak freezing instantly and then promptly withdrawing. The hands fall away from his thighs, making him shiver with their absence.

Julian looks down to face the music and Garak’s gaze is fixed on Julian’s face, attentive. His entire posture exudes anticipation, almost as if he’s awaiting new commands. 

The image does unspeakable things to Julian.

Coming to his senses, at least marginally, Julian removes his hands from Garak.

“I think I need to sit down,” he murmurs defeatedly and sinks onto the floor among Jadzia’s shoes.

“You are aware that our seven minutes have come and gone, aren’t you, Doctor?” Garak says as he settles next to him, batting away errant accessories. 

“I know!” Julian whines. “They should have opened the damned doors by now!” 

“Does this usually happen?” Garak enquires, completely unflappable. 

Julian wonders how Garak can be capable of winding him up so much and yet appearing completely unaffected. It is patently unfair.

“Does what happen? Running overtime?”

“Yes,” Garak states calmly. 

“I mean, not really. Otherwise, what would be the point? Seven minutes is just long enough to  _ start  _ something but not enough to finish it.”

That was not strictly true, though. Julian had heard stories of couples that managed to, uh,  _ do the deed _ in the allotted time, but Julian failed to see the appeal. Real intimacy shouldn’t be rushed like that. 

They sit in the gloom, pressed side-by-side in the small space. Julian fidgets, trying to sit comfortably. Urgh, how inconvenient. 

“Does that hurt, Doctor?” Garak asks and Julian feels so embarrassed he could die. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what Garak is referring to.

“Do you want the truth?” Julian laughs a smidge hysterically. 

What the hell was this situation? 

Trapped in a closet together, with the remnants of an epic practical joke lying around them in shambles.

What a farce.

“I’m sorry, Garak. It was not supposed to be this way.”

“Obviously,” Garak huffs, “Your friends have a terrible sense of timing.”

Julian agrees but that’s not what he’d meant. 

“Not that… I meant… I meant us. It was not meant to be like this.”

Garak sighs.

“I hate small spaces.”

Julian blinks in confusion at the non sequitur. He guesses Garak would prefer to sidestep the issue.

“You’re… claustrophobic?”

Garak throws him a dirty look for expounding on his statement. 

“Yes, Doctor. That is the proper scientific term for it, isn’t it?”

“Why didn’t you tell Jadzia that before she shoved you into a closet? Garak!”

Garak lets Julian’s indignation ping right off his armor.

“I am not in the habit of disclosing my… difficulties to others. Surely that is not news to you, Doctor.”

“So… You were what, trying to keep your mind off of that?”

Garak tilts his head in what Julian has learned was a gesture of agreement.

Julian touches Garak’s shoulder gently.

“You could have told me, Garak. I wouldn’t have told anyone. Doctor-patient privilege, remember?”

Garak’s exhale sounds aggrieved. 

“Gosh, I feel terrible now. I almost had you su-” Reconsidering at the last second, Julian shuts up. 

Garak chuckles almost like Julian has said something patently absurd. 

“If you think I would balk at that, you are sadly mistaken, Doctor.”

Julian feels stricken. 

What did they have him do in the Obsidian Order?

Another round of laughter dispels Julian’s thoughts. “You misunderstood, my dear.”

Julian wishes to ask, but then the softness is gone and Garak seems all business again.

“Unless you mean to proceed with our plan, it would probably be best if you buttoned up, Julian.”

Julian doesn’t expect the warm rush of tingles he gets at hearing his first name from Garak’s lips. 

“It feels like a bit of a waste, doesn’t it?” Julian murmurs. “It would have been an epic prank.”

The look Garak gives him is smoldering in the worst way.

“It would have indeed.”

Julian wonders if he imagined the way Garak’s eyes darted downwards. 

The tightness in his underwear comes back with a vengeance. 

Their game is over, so why is he still feeling the rush of tingles? 

How can he be breathless even now?

And when he hears a noise that sounds like creaking doors, he doesn’t think at all and dives in, kissing Garak for all he’s worth. He muffles the surprised gasp his action provokes, as panicked blue eyes reveal exactly how unawares Julian has caught Garak, who seems to hesitate for but one second before reaching out and placing a hand to Julian’s neck, drawing him further in.

Julian knows he should be busy with recrimination over using this as an excuse to indulge, but he doesn’t care. 

It’s impossible to care about anything else while kissing Garak, or so Julian is learning. 

And when he runs out of air and reluctantly separates from his enthusiastic playmate, he decides to turn around and assess the damage. They should be hearing leers and cheers by this point.

Instead of laughing faces and wolf-whistles, he is greeted by a closed door and unbroken darkness. 

“Uh, didn’t someone come in right now?” he asks Garak, to confirm that he isn’t going crazy. “Did I imagine it?”

“I’m afraid you didn’t give me a chance to look, my dear. My view was, shall we say, rather obstructed.”

Julian covers his mouth and starts chuckling. His chuckles evolve into unrestrained laughter.

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” Julian shakes his head. 

“No need to be so hard on yourself, dear Doctor.”

“We must have run overtime ages ago! Why are we still waiting here? Have they just forgotten about us?”

“You are the expert here,” Garak says in a clearly conciliatory manner, “but is it possible that we were supposed to emerge on our own?”

“Why would we?” Julian allows his puzzlement to show. “It’s not like we have a time-piece in here.”

Garak looks at him like he’s just said something monumentally stupid. 

“Are you, or are you not only a badge click away from having the computer parrot the time back at you?”

Julian blushes violently. 

“You made it a trifle difficult to think, you know? Why didn’t you suggest it?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary. Just like you, Doctor, I had faith we would be interrupted in a timely manner.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty…” Julian mutters. “It doesn’t matter.”

With an annoyed grumble, he starts buttoning his shirt up. Once that is done, he picks himself up off the floor and tucks his shirt into his trousers with vicious movements before re-fastening them. 

When he turns towards Garak to offer him a hand, he sees the Cardassian has already gotten up. The man was almost ridiculously stealthy at times. 

“I’m assuming you wish to leave?” Garak asks, as if it wasn’t perfectly obvious.

“There’s no point staying in this closet anymore, is there? I intend to give Jadzia a piece of my mind!”

Garak flashes him a wry smile.

“Perhaps she has managed to prank  _ us _ , hmm?”

Julian’s stomach drops.

“Jadzia wouldn’t… That would be too cruel.”

Garak shrugs and comes closer, brushing the wrinkles out of Julian’s shirt with steady swipes of his hand.

“Best fix your hair as well,” Garak offers and Julian swallows.

His closeness is still enticing. 

Would it hurt to…

One for the road?

He catches himself staring at Garak’s mouth and promptly tears his eyes away. He mumbles something incoherent and rakes fingers through his hair to tame it. His heart is still pounding too fast. 

Julian realizes that he’s reluctant to leave. 

Outside, him and Garak…

There  _ is _ no him and Garak on the outside. Not like this. He cannot reach over the lunch table and cup Garak’s jaw. He cannot tell him he wants to taste what tea he’s having.

And he  _ definitely  _ cannot tell Garak that he looks good on his knees. 

That’s not something for the outside world to see.

Only here, where they were alone, blanketed by darkness, did Julian dare…

He looks at Garak, wondering what would happen once they left the privacy of Jadzia’s closet. Without the game, without the pretense, what were they?

Just friends?

Just good friends who bickered over lunch every week, sharpening their words and minds in a mutual dance. Julian wondered whether their synergy would suffer now. 

Would this turn things awkward?

Julian didn’t want that.

“Garak…” he utters, cringing inwardly at the fear he cannot conceal, bleeding out into his tone.

“Yes?”

They are standing close because there’s not much space to stand and Julian is trying to catch any errant thoughts in the flicker of Garak’s eyes. There’s an unspoken sentiment somewhere in them, one Julian cannot comprehend. 

Or at least doesn’t dare speculate about. 

“If I hadn’t stopped you… How far would you have gone?”

Garak’s breathing changes almost imperceptibly but Julian catches the subtle hitch. 

“What do you think?”

He should have known Garak would be infuriatingly vague.

“I think…”

Dared he say it? What he truly meant?

“I think you would have gone as far as I let you.”

You could have heard a pin drop. Julian could swear that Garak stopped breathing altogether. 

“I believe we should leave, Doctor.” Garak attempts to bypass him but Julian refuses to let him through. And when Garak makes a second attempt, Julian grasps him by the shoulders and presses him into the wall. 

“I’m not going anywhere until you answer me.”

Garak snorts. “Haven’t you answered your own question, Doctor?”

Julian’s grip grows firmer. “What good is it if I answer my own damned question, Garak?”

He says nothing. 

“I don’t mind waiting until the morning, Garak. So, what will it be?”

Garak could be horribly stubborn, but Julian was no slouch in that department either. He wasn’t bluffing and Garak knew him well enough to see it. 

“The game is over, Doctor, whether your friends decide to come in or not.”

Garak’s retreat was always announced by the shuttering of his eyes. Once the blinds were down, it was impossible to get anything out of him. 

Julian knows he doesn’t have much time before Garak barricades himself in his mental fortress and becomes unreachable. This is a risky gamble, but his gut is telling him to go for it.

“Please… As if I don't know the game was just an excuse.”

Garak looks very much cornered in that moment, and he tries pushing Julian off but instead of an easily flung human, he meets only firm resistance. 

“What would happen if I did to you what you did to me?” Julian remarks offhandedly. “Would you moan? Would you arch your back for me?”

Garak seems to be clenching his teeth.

“I don’t think you want to give me a straight answer. You avoid it whenever possible.”

“Bullying tactics, Doctor? How unlike you.”

“I’m used to bull-headed patients, Garak; you don’t scare me.”

“Bold words.”

“You’re right.” Julian shakes his head. “Words are your weapons of choice. They won’t get me anywhere.”

And while Garak seems to be processing things and calculating his next move, Julian moves in for the kill.

With full awareness of the progression of events, he licks a stripe up Garak’s neck, what little he can reach above the stiff collar. Garak exhales sharply and freezes in his arms.

Wanting to make a point, Julian kisses the scales and sucks gently, increasing the pressure. Cardassian skin was much thicker and tougher than human epidermis. He is rewarded by a full-body shudder in return. He lavishes the same attention upon each individual scale until he gets to Garak’s ear ridges, which he decides could use a little nibble. He notices that Garak’s jaw is clenched so tightly that he’s probably developing a tooth-ache. 

Julian isn’t sure which part of him is compelling him, but he doesn’t want to stop, not now when he’s finally touching Garak again.

“I want to hear you… Why won’t you let me hear your lovely voice, Elim?”

That nets him a staggered breath and a sinuous movement that reads as hopelessly aroused. Garak’s ridges are deeply flushed and his even breathing is just gone. With an insistent finger, Julian brings Garak’s chin closer. He leans in and murmurs against thin lips, noticing they parted for him almost immediately.

“Should I go on, Elim? Is that what you want?”

Let him have an out. After all, Garak always stopped when Julian requested it - it was only fair. 

“How. Far. Would. You. Have.  _ Gone _ ?” Julian asks, punctuating each word with a gentle bite along Garak’s jaw, and when he’s close to his ear, he licks the ridge leading up to it with excruciating and deliberate slowness, breathing across the trail he left.

“Tell me,” he whispers into Garak’s ear, “ _ Elim _ .”

Garak groans and bares his throat. Unable to resist the offering, Julian leaves kisses - needy, greedy little kisses across the expanse of gray skin. Garak, the closed book, the epitome of self-discipline is cracking under the pressure, Julian can feel it. The calm façade is falling away with every touch, every caress, every whisper. Would it be enough? 

He didn’t want to push Garak too far. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Just the memory of that first boy he’d been trapped with was enough to bring the point home. 

Julian didn’t want to be the skeleton in Garak’s closet.

“Did you want me, irrespective of the game?” Julian wheedles. “Please, Garak, I need to know.”

“And what will telling you accomplish?” Garak spits out, unable to conceal his bitterness.

Julian knows that his next answer can either make or break what they have. 

What they  _ could  _ have.

Could he go back to their lunches and never want anything more?

Could he learn to ignore the possibility it offers, now that he knows what Garak tastes like,  _ feels _ like... 

He takes a long hard look inside himself and realizes the answer is a resounding  _ no _ .

No, he cannot. 

“Depending on what you say, we either leave this closet and meet next week for lunch… Or I invite you to my quarters right now for dessert. It’s your choice.”

Garak’s eyes are flashing dangerously in the darkness.

“If you think I have a choice, you are delusional, Doctor.”

Julian releases him and steps away, fearing he’s ruined everything.

What had he been thinking?

As if Garak could ever want someone as naive, as  _ green _ as him. 

“As if I could say no to you,” Garak mumbles, and in the next moment, Julian is being pulled forward and kissed with reckless abandon.

It is as unexpected as that first rush of pleasure had been. He knows, if by some epic misfortune, Jadzia barges in on them, he will either not be aware of it, or will be forced to shoo her away. 

Suddenly, he’s not so afraid anymore. Their fit may be clumsier now, almost like this is their first kiss, their noses bump and their teeth clack and after it happens twice in rapid succession Julian starts laughing.

He looks at Garak bashfully, knowing full well that his cheeks are flushed. 

“Well, that was a rather enthusiastic way to accept my offer… I mean… Do you? Accept my offer, I mean.”

Garak looks at him with a devilish glint in his eyes and Julian concludes he much prefers this expression, as opposed to the bitter or uncertain ones. 

“Dessert may prove dangerous to my figure, Julian.”

“Why don’t I throw in a healthy exercise regimen to sweeten the deal?” Julian says cheekily, feeling at once flustered and daring. 

Garak smirks and motions for the closet door. “We have to survive the firing squad first.”

Julian chuckles loudly, unable to stifle his amusement. “No time like the present, huh?”

Garak starts to leave but Julian places a gentle hand on his chest.

“Your hair is still a mess, Garak. Let me help.”

Garak stops and waits patiently as Julian tries to undo the mess he’s made of the usually sleek hairdo. Julian runs his fingers through the disheveled strands gently and tucks them all neatly behind Garak’s ear. 

“There, that should be fine,” Julian says, and realizes Garak is staring at him with undisguised fondness.

The silence feels warm. He may have walked in dreading the seven minutes he would have to spend here, only to end up having an almost obscene amount of fun. 

Garak clears his throat and points towards the door.

“Let’s get out of here, my dear.” 

Julian smiles and follows Garak. 

When they step out, they see the party is in full swing, its edges having spilled into Jadzia’s bedroom, with streamers hanging everywhere and a few people trying to engage in conversation over the loud music. As they are making their way out, barely anyone even acknowledges them.

In the living room, Morn is juggling empty bottles and being cheered by a huge crowd who occasionally throw something his way, which he proceeds to add to the rather impressive number of things already in the air. Julian wonders if that’s the reason why Jadzia keeps inviting the Lurian to her parties. People pass them by with drinks, one of the cute Ensigns is blasting a confetti cannon, and literally  _ nobody  _ seems to care that they have emerged from the closet long overdue. 

Julian’s eyes find Garak’s and they both start snickering. Garak’s smile is conspiratorial to the extreme. 

“There you are!”

Julian zeroes in on the owner of the infuriatingly chipper voice.

Jadzia saunters towards them, wearing a skewed party hat, colorful drink in one hand and confetti raining out of her hair.

“How long did you leave us in there?” Julian says indignantly.

She purses her lips and shrugs in a way that implies she is tipsy. “I don’t know, I didn’t time it.”

“You’re supposed to!” Julian cries out.

Jadzia merely laughs.

“That would be rude, wouldn’t it? I assumed you were having fun.”

Julian blushes furiously, even as Garak states cooly, “We caught up on some literary analysis, so it wasn’t time wasted.”

Jadzia looks at them shrewdly.

“Nice try, Garak. Julian’s shirt wasn’t buttoned up wrong when you went in.”

Garak sighs theatrically. 

“Fine, we were having fun trying out your clothing. It turns out Julian looks ravishing in that gorgeous purple-”

“Garak!” Julian splutters.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear, was that supposed to be a secret?”

It’s not even true, but Julian is burying his face in his palms and groaning regardless.

“Awww,” she coos. “And you tried so hard too!”

Julian feels a friendly pat to his forearm.

“Go grab a drink! I need to mingle - bye!”

And just like that, she’s gone again - lost in the writhing, colorful crowd. 

Julian whines incredulously. “All that - for nothing!”

Garak leans in and mutters into his ear:

“Oh, I wouldn’t say dessert in your quarters is  _ nothing _ …”

Julian looks at him and grins. Feeling mischievous, he takes Garak’s hand and gently pulls him towards the exit.

Before they can get very far, Jadzia reappears between them, smooshing them by grabbing their shoulders in a big hug.

“Oh, the hickeys were a nice touch, by the way. Better luck next time!”

As she makes herself scarce once more, Julian bites his lower lip and tries to suppress his laughter. Garak’s twinkling blue eyes meet his and they tumble out of Jadzia’s quarters with chuckles and giggling left in their wake. 

Getting to pull a fast one over Jadzia may be sweet, but the promise of dessert?

That‘s even sweeter.

**Author's Note:**

> I am DYING to know what reaction you had on this fic! ;P


End file.
